


Inked Flesh

by Sinsrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoos, Anal Sex, Bruises, Love Bites, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Content, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinsrose/pseuds/Sinsrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inked flesh, skin. The colors popping against tanned flesh. The reason behind that tattoos started eight years ago. Eight years ago, when Dean got his first tattoo on that drunken night. The morning that he had woken up, gauze on his hip not having a clue why, and it was there inked on his hip. the start of it all his first ink, his first tattoo.He could blame that fact on Sam, he could but he doesn’t. Back then things had been harder for them both, sneaking around. Dean had worked in tattoo parlors in his spare time to earn money, between hunts. The main reason being it passed time, and the fact his father had banned him from seeing Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inked Flesh

 

Inked flesh, skin. The colors popping against tanned flesh. The reason behind that tattoos started eight years ago. Eight years ago, when Dean got his first tattoo on that drunken night. The morning that he had woken up, gauze on his hip not having a clue why, and it was there inked on his hip. the start of it all his first ink, his first tattoo.He could blame that fact on Sam, he could but he doesn’t. Back then things had been harder for them both, sneaking around. Dean had worked in tattoo parlors in his spare time to earn money, between hunts. The main reason being it passed time, and the fact his father had banned him from seeing Sam. 

 

John had walked in one night after they had sex, caught them naked, and things had gone sour from there. John had at once started screaming at Sam, and Sam had taken it upon himself to leave for college that night, leaving Dean behind, as much as he loved him. While at Standford however Sam had found out Dean was working in the shop started to see him whenever Dean was off from hunts and John wasn’t keeping an eye on him. That worked for awhile till they got caught. 

 

Of course things changed over the years.

 

                             Now things are **d i f f e r e n t.**

 

 

 

Dean groans a sharp breath escaping rose pink lips. Breath parting as he shifts eying over the inked flesh of his brother. His lips press a kiss to the tattoo on his right wrist- words completing the exorcism that’s inked on Dean’s left wrist. He kisses the skin soft and sweet, a fever flaring though his lips as he kisses the skin. He watches as Sam breathes out deeply though his slightly red lips bitten from kissing prior. “You look so good, Sammy.” Dean mutters across his skin, lips trailing over the skin of  his wrist leaving another soft kiss on the inked flesh. 

 

Dean’s lips hover over the familiar tattoo of the anti-possession mark, tongue pressing across the skin. It flicks softly across the skin tasting over the ink that had long ago been banded there by him. Dean had done that tattoo himself there on Sam’s collarbone. He had spent hours afterward tangled up in his brother’s arms, spent hours fucking him afterward. In return Sam had taken the gun, the tattoo gun back and inked his own anti-possession mark into Dean’s collarbone back. It had taken them hours, they had been so wrapped up in one another’s arms after the ink had tainted their clean skin.  

 

They never stopped inking one another’s skin either, each tattoo on them holds memories, it’s a part of them. The larger pieces are from major events in the boy’s life, the small pieces are minor events that got added to the larger pieces or stand on their own. Ink is all over their bodies a part of them, making them who they are. It tells their story like Chuck’s books tell the world their story.  Dean’s inked fingers stick out on Sam’s tanned flesh. The word Faith going across his right fingers, a small cross on his pinky under the H of the word, and on his left hand the word Pride is written across the finger bones. 

 

Dean bites down sharply across the flesh of Sam’s skin, leaving a mark over the inked skin of the anti-possession tattoo. His eyes a little darkened as he proceeds to give attention to the inked skin. Sam’s covered in the ink; it marks over the flesh, and is part of his soul. Sam breathes out, breathe hitching in his throat, letting out these soft quiet moans. 

 

“Sammy, you don’t have to hide it

 

                                                           **A n y m o r e**.”

 

Dean whispers a low whisper, heartfelt and meaning it. It’s been years since they had someplace that was home that they could be so intimate like this. Taking their time, touching over skin, feeling over one another, and exploring over one another’s bodies. The touches aren’t rushed like in the motel rooms, they’re simple. They mean something. The fact that they haven’t had time like this, being alone without having to care if this is wrong or right. Dean’s words have a sort of clarity, a meaning. 

 

They don’t have to run and hide. 

 

Dean presses his lips to ­Sam’s who’s draped across the sheets. His fingers tangle in the sheets, holding onto them. A gentle whimper escaping his lips. There’s a sort of passion behind it, one reserved for the closest of family, and yet oddly lovers. It’s the type of passion that one would give upon becoming engaged and wanting to spend the rest of their life with that person. It’s a heat that ensnarls the bones and spreads though the core of you, making a fierily dance in your blood and heart. One that is so deep, and meaningful and real. One that is the song of the lovers playing in their field. 

 

“De-”

 

The cry is broken off by the pair of lips darting down once more to capture them.  Warmth igniting in his bones, as lips meet again. There’s a fire in the heart, one that can’t be tamed, or dulled. One that speaks of love. Sam’s fingers of his right hand, that look skeletal due to the tattoo branded into his skin, reach to hold Dean around his shoulders pressing deeper into the heat of the kiss. Clothing had long been forgotten, hours ago when they had simply curled up around one another enjoying the company and longing of one another.

 

  Being **_alive_**

 

**__ ** Meant so **m u c h.**

 

Dean lets out a soft groan, eyes looking right back at Sam. Heat pooled in his stomach. The flame that burns between these two, the bond that never has really left them throughout the years. No matter how much they have fought or hurt one another, the bond never really wavered. The bond between two souls destined to be with one another. People more than often joke about soul-mates but these two, you can see it in their eyes, you can see it as Sam leans back to kiss his brother. 

 

The kiss is chaste, and soft. It means everything to them. Everything, in every sense of the word. The feelings these brother’s have shared though the years. They’ve been so co-dependent, and so connected, it’s no wonder they ended this close. They share the same heaven; the same burdens the same life. The life that is of hunting. Dean’s blood is steady beneath his veins, quickened and heightened by the rich pleasure coursing though his veins. The color of heat framing Sam’s face, the evident source of flush in his cheeks, as he parts his lips to admit his brother’s tongue into his mouth.

 

The flavor is sweet. Sugary like candy, for an unknown reason, considering Dean’s normal taste of whiskey and cigarettes.  Sam pulls away with reddened lips, and a quickened heartbeat, one that only his brother could cause. Dean’seyes sweep over Sam’s frame.Lanky form, sun kissed skin, muscled, freckles darting across the skin here and there, under ink. He wouldn’t trade Sam for anyone. He’s gorgeous despite his imperfections of his heart.

 

  His self-loathing, his lack of faith in himself. The way he downs himself for not being enough for Dean. He means so much to Dean though, more than he knows, more than he realizes. More than he could ever realize. It’s shown though the passion and fever in the kisses, it shows in the ink across their skins. The way they move with one another, as if in a dance when it really is just their life. The song that plays that sets fire to their skin and makes them feel alive.

 

“I need **_you_**.”

 

                      “De,”

 

It’s a broken afterthought. One of longing, of lust, of fever, and one that sounds like he’s coming home. It means so much the weight of Sam’s words. The weight of them is enough to bring Dean to his knees. Dean’s breath escapes him in a hitch as he tenderly kisses him, as a mother would kiss their child, not wanting to break him. Being here like this with him means everything after the hell they’ve been though. The hell that has been their life for the last eight years. Dean kisses down the ink that’s laid out on Sam’s chest, pieces of his memories inked onto skin for the world to see if they met him. The stories behind the ink, the pieces of themselves that everyone can see. Dean laps over the skin that is his brother, nipping and sucking over the chest piece, tongue tracing over the outlines, teasing over the flesh.  

 

Sam shudders under the touches, succumbs to the touches, a cry tearing from his throat, soft cries echoing out, as Dean and mares up the beautiful skin. The skin turning reds, and purples under the touch of teeth and tongue making his younger brother cry out sharply, nails ranking down Dean’s tanned flesh of his back. It feels pure. It feels right. This is home for them; it always has been, being in one another’s arms, feeling one another, feeling each other’s heartbeat and one another breathe. Words never have to be exchanged because they both know one another too well, they both know what they mean to each other.

 

**                   S o u l m a t e s. **

 

**                                        In every sense of the word. **

 

The bond between the two brothers, the way they trust one another. Laugh, live, and be happy around one another. They love one another unconditionally. Dean leads a trail of bites down Sam’s chest before moving to kiss at the familiar carving of the letters DW on his hip taken right from the Impala, inked onto his flesh forever claiming Sam as his, and his **alone.**   The mirrored ink is slandered across Dean’s hip the scrawl of SW on his own skin. Marking one another as their own, and as lovers.  

 

“De, _Please._ ”

 

Dean bites down sharply on Sam’s hip making him arch, his fingers making more welts on Dean’s back as he does so. Soft cries coming from lips, the familiar cry of pleasure and sin. The ink taking the bite marring it with blood but otherwise it remains unchanged and perfect in its form across his skin. Dean could spend hours talking to you about Sam’s tattoos alone, or even hours tracing over them with his tongue and lips. Making Sam shake so much he thought he would lose himself in the pleasure at any given moment. Dean presses a searing soft kiss afterwards almost like a tease to the bite, that makes Sam shake, and tremble beneath the touches. His dick risen against his naked chest, starting to ooze pre-cum, and everything that drips of sex.

 

The steady smell of sex in the room is one that is familiar to them both and of one that is comforting. Dean’s fingers press across Sam’s hips his gauze darkened emerald orbs. Sam’s tongue darting out to wet his lips, a blush gracing his face, as if he was an innocent little teenager once more in life. Dean presses a trail of butterfly kisses to the ink on his hip before moving his hips lower to nip and suck on the cross that is tattooed across Sam’s thigh, that he proceeds to bite down hard on, making Sam cry out louder than before. 

 

“You wanna feel me?

 

                                        **Sammy**?”

 

The voice itself is a rich whisper that seems almost husky. One that is full of need, and sin, and want. One that Sam is far used to and accustomed to in his life. Sam is panting long legs stretched apart, face flushed color clearly rising on his face. He parts his legs further to the side, lips open slightly, looking more than a little obscene due to the bruises and bites littering over the inked skin. One of Dean’s hands go to Sam’s hip holding him still for now, despite his protests and noises he makes when the wet surface of Dean’s tongue darts across the familiar skin of muscle. 

 

It makes Sam want to come apart like putty in Dean’s hands. The slow licking is enough to drive Sam insane. Literally. The dart of pink across skin makes Sam squirm in the sheets, letting out these breathy little noises that sound pornographic and delicious to Dean’s ears. Dean can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and a steady blush come to his own face at the noises as he darts his tongue once more into Sam knowing the rise it gets from him.

 

“De,-

 

It’s a cut off choked moan, Sam’s face on fire from the touch of his tongue. His cock rock hard and dripping pressed up against his stomach; this is such a bad tease to Sam. Part of him just wants to come then and there but he knows if he holds off, it will feel even better. Dean loves to tease him, do things they couldn’t do when he was younger. Spread him out on the sheets, and tease him till he can’t take it anymore like he’s doing now, and make him cry out, and almost scream from the frustration.  Sam’s fingers curl up into the sheets, tangled as the touches feel like fire in his blood the touches making his heartbeat race and his blood feel hot.  

 

There’s a louder cry ripped from his tongue as Dean dives deeper into him with his tongue. Sam parts his legs on impulse, seeking further attention which Dean gives, making Sam moan out in pleasure, that leaves his hips trying to arch up into the touch. Dean’s hand on his hip though holds him firm in a bruising grip that makes him cry out again, because Dean’s nails are making marks in already sensitive skin. Sam cannot get enough of the feelings coursing though his veins the rich ensnarling ecstasy that courses though his system. Sam groans, voice hitching a little more as Dean goes even more into him, fingers that are going to leave bruises in his tanned flesh alongside tattoos leaving him colored brightly. 

 

“ ** _Please-_** ”

 

It’s a broken off moan, more of a cry and Sam’s withering in the sheets falling apart under Dean’s tongue, so bent out right now and horny. He’s so needy and so attentive right now. The sight makes Dean moan around him, tongue licking and twisting past the muscle of his ass as he squirms making these noises that are so Sam, noises that Dean has come to love and adore. Dean pulls away from the abused flesh, hearing Sam stutter a want of please as he pulls away. He’s so downright needy right now.

 

“Dean, I need”-

 

        “Shh, I’ll take care of you.” 

 

Dean’s voice is like liquid skin across the flesh, fingers slipping into the opening that was opened moments prior by his tongue. It’s slick and wet, and perfect as he crooks his fingers into him, having used his spit as lubrication tonight. That’s a little rawer than normally but this is their eight year mark, eight years of doing this. Dean feels the urge to do this like a primal need, one that sinks past the want and is more of an impulse in his mind. Heat strikes Dean’s frame like a vice, catching him like a cat as he twists his fingers, and Sam’s voice rises, letting out these cries that are loud and unafraid of what he wants. What he _needs._

 

“ _De_ -“

 

Sam’s voice is a broken off cut off moan, as he tries to arch again, hips raising only slightly but never getting anywhere as Dean fingers him open. It’s beyond teasing, it’s torture to Sam. Every touch sets his skin more alive, and its sheer will that he hasn’t came all over him as Dean does this. The fact the pleasure is the only thing on his mind shows how overwhelmed he is, how much he needs this right _now._ Sam makes this kneeing sort of whine when Dean’s fingers curve onto that one area inside him that makes his vision go white. He thrashes even more in Dean’s grip letting out these noises that don’t sound human to his ears but they’re porn to his brothers. 

 

 “So gorgeous, when you fall apart like this.”

 

 It’s a hushed whisper as Dean presses another finger inside of him, and Sam chokes on a sob. He’s so close, and yet he can’t. He can feel it in his bones, he knows he’s going to lose it, know he’s going to come all over the sheets. All over himself and Dean because it feels all too good. 

 

“De, De, **_Dean_**.” 

 

He chokes on his words them slurring into moans, that are quite loud and he’s past caring at this point despite the heavy color on his face. Dean removes his fingers, and that makes Sam whine deep in his throat from the need, but that changes upon the fact that his fingers are replaced with something larger. His dick, and there’s a moment of choked breathing and another whimper, as Dean slips inside him. Sam needs a few moments to adjust at first to the feeling, how raw it feels there’s nothing between them, no condom no nothing just them. 

 

“You okay?”

 

Dean’s concern is always reassuring not matter how frenzied their fucking is, no matter how rushed. Dean faces him, hands on Sam’s hips as he begins to work a pattern of sliding in and out, letting out these noises of his own. They’re low in his throat and perfect as he begins to thrust in and out of Sam drawing pleasure to him. It shoots though Sam like liquid fire, and makes him cry out, his legs wrapping around Dean’s shoulders lost in the feeling, lost in the bliss. He’s so far gone, and everything feels perfect and _right_.

 

“I love you.” 

 

  It’s a choked and bitten off the words, and Dean almost crumbles at them, pausing mid thrust. He seems to freeze, pausing nailed on that sweet spot of Sam, eyes seeming to widen at the words. The words mean so much, there words that neither of them have ever spoken until now, despite all they have been though, despite everything, and now Sam says them. And the fact he has brings Dean to tears. Dean can feel the water drip sore from his eyes as he leans down to kiss him mid-thrust.

 

“Love you too jerk.” 

 

It’s heartwarming to hear the words from Dean’s tongue and it feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs. The kiss is messy, a heated fever of emotions that draw at both their heartstrings and mean so much to them, they mean so very much to them. Sam cries out sharply again as Dean slides out again and then back in, Sam clenching around him, fingers digging into his skin marking him up. 

 

“Love you so much, Sammy.” 

 

The words bring Sam over the edge, and he clutches around Dean’s cock, tightening his inner walls, and Dean lets out a wail himself, not expecting the sudden onslaught of his own orgasm that grips him as Sam comes. It’s sticky, it’s messy and it gets all over the place. Sam’s cum spatters Dean all over the stomach, and Sam can feel the rush of the liquid inside him when Dean comes in him. For the longest while after that they seem to stay entwined with one another, Dean falling on Sam’s tattooed and cum covered chest still inside him, not wanting to move, and Sam he doesn’t protest. His fingers ranking though Dean’s hair, the soft breathing of Sam’s heartbeat against Dean’s ears. Sam’s fingers pull the sheet over them with his free hand staying wrapped up in one another even as Dean pulls out of him, breathing hard and panting. 

 

They’re finally

 

**_                                     H O M E. _ **

 

And as the boys fall asleep in one another’s company, they know for all the hell they have been though in their lives, this is the ending they would never change, being here in one another’s arms. Being here and so in love with one another, and being so happy, and being alive. They wouldn’t change anything in this life because deep down they both know, they wouldn’t want another life. They don’t want to change who they are or lose this because well, let’s face it- 

 

_ our boys-  _

 

                 these **boys** ,  

 

**                          always ** have been 

 

**_                                                      S o u l- m a t e s _ **


End file.
